The Passenger
by Alina
Summary: (One-shot crossover) In his final moments of freedom, Arvin Sloane realized that all this time, he had had it all backwards.


**Title**: The Passenger  
**Rating**: PG  
**Category**: Crossover  
**Summary**: (One-shot crossover) In his final moments of freedom, Arvin Sloane realized that all this time, he had had it all backwards.  
**Spoilers**: Alias - The Rambaldi stuff. There are no real spoilers for the other fandom other than the basics - you'll know it when you see it.  
**Disclaimer**: I didn't invent any of the concepts used in this fic. I'm just a shameless imitator.  
**Author's Notes**: I originally tried to write a big huge novella that would've been a little bit more all-encompassing, but given that it takes me forever just to get anywhere, I decided a small one-shot would be easier. Please comment, nitpick, criticize, and enjoy!

* * *

He felt as though he had at long last come to the end of a very taxing pilgrimage. He had spent years of his life and energy to get to this single triumphant moment. And now, it had all come full circle. Finally, he, Arvin Sloane, former CIA agent and former leader of the notorious SD-6, now a mole in the cryptic Covenant, had obtained what he had long sought - the box containing Milo Rambaldi's greatest secret, the secret to immortalitywhich was, according to the inscription on the box, the very soul of Rambaldi himself.

Now that the box was in his possession, and there wasn't an immediate threat to him and his daughter (the wonders of inside connections to help you stay one step ahead of the CIA and Interpol), Sloane allowed himself the pleasure of savoring the moment. He slowly took in the setting, committing to memory the intricacies, whispers, and odors of the room. He frowned at the sight of his Nadia; her expression marred the otherwise perfect canvas his mind had been memorizing.

"Something troubles you," he stated flatly, his tone telling her that he wanted to know what was wrong.

Nadia lowered her gaze to the dusty marble floor, collecting her thoughts before answering. "We should not open it," she said simply. Sloane started at her, dumbfounded.

"How can we not? Nadia, we've come so far. Why shouldn't we open it?" he asked.

"It is difficult for me to explain" she trailed off before sighing in frustration and closing her eyes in order to bring up the words she needed to articulate her feelings.

"I have always felt a foreboding about channeling messages using the serum. It is as if my heart tells me that this quest should be forgotten and its prize untouched, if not destroyed," she explained. Sloane rose to his feet and approached Nadia quietly, placing a reassuring arm over her shoulder.

"I can understand how you can feel that way," he told her softly, "you have suffered a great deal as a result of your role in all of this."

"I know. And until now, I believed that was the source of my discomfort. But I do not believe that anymore. Now I know that my discomfort stems from that artifact. No good can come of opening it."

"The prophecy says it will grant eternal life and perfect health," Sloane reminded her.

"It will. Butthere has always been something else in the back of my mind that I cannot place or properly describe. The prophecy does not lie, but it does not tell the whole truth either"

Finally, seeing that she was getting nowhere with her explanation, she took his hand off her shoulder and clasped it in her own, her eyes brimming with tears. "Please Father, do not open it!"

Sloane shook his head. "Nadia, I trust your feelings to be true. Don't doubt that for a second."

He felt better when she smiled, and he reached out to her again, this time to caress her cheek. As he pulled her into a warm hug, he continued to whisper in her ear.

"But I have no doubt that we can handle whatever may be in the box. Don't worry," he soothed.

His reassurances were apparently of little solace to his child, for she stiffened in his embrace. Sloane let her retreat. He refused to turn back, but the least he could do was let her distance herself from the Rambaldi box.

"It's not right," she insisted, taking up a defensive position near the walls. Yet she made no move to stop him, so Sloane assumed that she would let him fulfill his dream.

He later wished that she had done anything to stop him, even if it meant killing him.

He smoothed his hand over the pale lid of the box. It looked and felt like marble, but it was as light as plastic. Again, Sloane was amazed at the marvels Rambaldi had been able to manufacture. They often surpassed even modern technology in their complexity and scope.

He never fathomed that there was a reason for this beyond that Rambaldi was a genius far ahead of his time.

As he carefully felt along the sides of the box for the release mechanism, Sloane wondered what the contents of the box could possibly be. He dismissed the notion that it would actually contain Rambaldi's soul. That was far too spiritual and unscientific to be the Renaissance figure's style. No, the allusion to the soul had to be a metaphor of some sort. Maybe it was an intact sample of Rambaldi's DNA, one that when examined would reveal the secrets of longevity

Seeing that there was no point musing about what Rambaldi's greatest secret was when the answer was sitting in front of him, Sloane flicked two switches on the box's side. It opened with a depressurizing hiss, and the aging turncoat eagerly peered inside.

It took a few seconds for a strange vapor to dissipate before he could get a good look inside. He decided that the vapor had to be a by-product of some sort of cryogenic stasis, which only solidified his belief that there was some sort of DNA sample hidden within. But what he saw in actuality only confused him.

He wasn't sure what to classify it as. It looked like a cross between a slug, a snake, and a frilled lizard. It was dark brown in colour and perhaps two feet in length. Coiled together in a neat concentric circle, Sloane had to take a second to decide whether it was a real creature.

The creature answered this for him by emitting a high-pitched scream and unraveling itself in the blink of an eye. As it managed to surge upwards towards him from the box (could snakes do that?), Sloane blacked out.

He wasn't sure what happened in the few seconds where he lost awareness. When he did return to his senses, the box was empty, the creature was nowhere to be seen, and Nadia was staring at him in horror. He didn't feel injured in any way, but his neck ached from his sudden reflex to get away from the box.

"Where is it? Where did it go?" he asked her as he fumbled for the pistol tucked into his shirt. Sloane soon had it in hand, released the safety, and looked again to his daughter for answers. When she didn't answer, he tried to approach her. "Nadia"

"Get back!" she ordered, whipping out her own weapon and aiming for his head. "Father, do you mean to tell me that you do not know where it is?"

"I-I think I blacked out for a few seconds as it jumped out of the box. I don't know where it went," he admitted hesitantly.

"You are certain?" Nadia insisted, her weapon unwavering.

"Of course!" Sloane fumed, trying to figure out what was going on. Nadia knew where it went. He could see it in her eyes. Why wouldn't she tell him? Did she still want to prevent him from learning all about Rambaldi's secrets? Did she still not trust him?

"Nadia, what aren't you telling me?"

Nadia's face was stained with the tears streaming down her face. She knew. She knew where the creature had gone. And worse, she had a feeling she had always known what it was. It was the creature that had alerted her intuition, which had in turn warned her never to open the box, never to pursue Rambaldi. Because all of the promises embedded in his works were veils covering a darker secret, one that was now staring her in the face.

"It's inside you"

"What?" Sloane breathed. How was that possible?

Suddenly, Sloane felt the same loss of control over his senses as he had felt when the creature had first disappeared. What was wrong with him?

Gunfire erupted in the room as he tried desperately to regain control of himself. Everything had been reduced to a haze, as if he was standing in the middle of the room watching the scene unfold, and yet he knew he was participating. He could hear his own voice speaking, resonating with a strange menacing tone, and he could sense himself firing at his own daughter, watching as he felt limp to the floor. Desperate to stop whatever events were going on around him, he summoned up whatever mental force he could muster and tried to make himself stop. When he could not reclaim motor function of his body, his fear and sorrow quickly changed into panic. He wasn't in control anymore.

And in his final moments of freedom, as he lost the final remnants of control of his body over to the Goa'uld, Arvin Sloane realized that all this time, he had had it all backwards. It had never been about who the box was for, but who the finder was for. By forcing his followers to develop a network of control over all facets of the planet in order to fulfill the prophecies, Rambaldi had assured that his new host would already be poised and ready to take over the world when he entered it. Although Sloane didn't know it at the time, all Rambaldi needed now was to find and take control of the Stargate, and his domination over the Tau'ri would be complete.

The End.


End file.
